KINGSPORT, Tenn. — A watched phone never rings. Coty Sensabaugh's iPhone is sitting in his lap late Saturday morning as he settles in for what he expects to be a long day. He's confident he'll get taken in the NFL Draft but admits he has prepared himself for the worst, in case his phone stays silent all day.

The first day of the draft provides faux drama, as the world's most extravagant job fair goes live on TV. Young men are crushed when they fall from high first round to middle first round to low first round, even—gasp—into the second round. But let's be honest: Nobody feels sorry for a 22-year-old man who is less of a millionaire than he thought he would be.

It's one thing to fall. It's quite another to wonder if anybody wants you. What's life like on the bubble? "It's like a dream coming true, but like a nightmare at the same time," Sensabaugh says. "It's all emotions possible wrapped up into one."

Sensabaugh played cornerback for Clemson. He graduated in four years and stuck around to play his final season of eligibility, when he emerged as an NFL prospect but not a highly rated one. He ran the third-fastest time among defensive backs at the Scouting Combine and scored a stellar 27 on the Wonderlic. He's a leader, and his coaches love him. Charlie Harbison, his position coach at Clemson, says, "He's like a son to me."

But for NFL teams watching tape, there's about half a season worth of material that makes him look draftable. That's why he's here, in his parent's living room, in the seat farthest from the TV, waiting and wondering. Saturday took forever to get here and now is going second … by … excruciating … second. "Your fate is in someone else's hands," he says. "That's the tough thing about it."

Still, it's hard to believe he'll be crushed if he doesn't get taken. "It's just a blessing to be in this position. That's how I try to look at it," he says.

Emphasis on try because sometimes he forgets. But he always gets back to being thankful. He has seen real heartbreak in his young life, and getting passed over in the draft isn't it.

THOUGH THEY WERE BORN FIVE YEARS APART, Coty and his older brother Jamaar were inseparable.

"Oh, man, we did everything," Coty says. "We played basketball, football, baseball, video games, rode bikes. Anything two kids can get in trouble and talk their way out of."

When they couldn't talk their way out of it, Jamaar took the blame, even when Coty was the culprit.

When Jamaar was 16 in 2000, he was hospitalized after complaining about being tired. Coty, who was 11, remembers sitting in class when the office called and said he was being picked up by his oldest brother, Travis. Travis had never checked him out of school. Coty knew that meant something bad had happened. The two drove to the hospital, where they were told Jamaar had leukemia.

Jamaar died a few days later. The whole thing took a week.

Coty was crushed, of course. He grieved for years. Still, as hurt as he was, he gave his parents strength.

"Really and truly, I just wanted to lay down and die," says his mom, Becky Sensabaugh.

"But I knew that I couldn't do that. Coty, he was really the driving force to make me get up every day."

Coty, Becky and his dad, Kim, all say that take one of them away, and none of them would have come out of the other end of the dark tunnel Jamaar's death thrust them into.

"We were each other's sharpening tools," Coty Sensabaugh says.

He gets sharper every day. His brother's death shaped him into the man he is—he is grateful and works hard and takes nothing for granted. To honor his brother, he wants to use his platform as an NFL player to raise awareness about the disease by starting a foundation in his name.

"I want people who know both of us, when they see me, they see a spitting image of him," he says.

THE DRAFT'S FOURTH ROUND IS ABOUT TO START. Coty, his parents, his girlfriend, two of his aunts and his agent gather in a circle and hold hands. His Aunt Doris leads a prayer in which she acknowledges that God is in control of the events that are about to take place and asks for His peace in dealing with them.

Nervous chatter fills the room. Kim, the most emotional of the bunch, is in the kitchen washing strawberries. When Coty got offered the scholarship to Clemson, Kim cried so hard Becky thought she'd have to come home from work to take care of him.

"It's best to stay in here rather than walking circles around the room," he says.

Picks go by. Coty is in a chair next to his girlfriend, Dominique Jordan, a senior at Clemson, who is doing homework. The good news is there are three-plus rounds of picks left. The bad news is roughly 10 cornerbacks ranked higher than Sensabaugh have not been taken.

The draft restarted 53 minutes ago. A watched phone never …

Wait!

R-r-r-r-ing!

The room explodes in silence. Someone turns down the TV. Someone shushes everybody.

Sensabaugh sees 615 as the area code and knows it's a Nashville number. He looks at the TV and sees the Titans' next pick is coming up. For a few seconds he wonders if it's a prank or a "we like you but will take you later" call.

It's a woman on the other end. He says, "Yes, ma'am" a couple times. She asks where he is. He says home. She asks if there are a lot of people around. He says yes. She says good, because I've got good news for you.

His bright and smiling eyes look up. "Why y'all looking at me?"

Fourth round, 115th overall, way earlier than he could have dreamed about. Not only did he go before other corners ranked higher than him, but he got taken by the home-state team.

Kim is on the couch, his face buried in the crook of his left elbow, his right hand pounding the couch, tears in his eyes. On the wall above him is a picture of Jamaar with angel wings that says, "watching over you all."

Becky Sensabaugh and Coty's Aunt BeBe are hugging. Coty is trying to have a serious conversation with his new bosses, so he gets up, walks into the laundry room and closes the door. There, he talks one at a time with a handful of Titans officials, including Brett Maxie, the secondary coach. Maxie coached Coty's cousin, Gerald Sensabaugh, with the Dallas Cowboys.

Out in the living room, everybody hugs everybody. Everybody cries. There is fist bumping and dancing and celebrating.

Travis Sensabaugh arrives a few minutes later. His brother was drafted 19 minutes ago, and he's already talking to someone at a sporting goods store.

"Do you have any Titans T-shirts?" Asked how many he wants to buy, he says, "However many they got." He returns with seven. An hour or so later, armed with Kim's credit card, he goes back to buy more.

Coty Sensabaugh is a great quote. He uses analogies and metaphors and tells great stories. But all he can say now is, "Oh, man. Oh, man. Man. Man. Man. Man."

He hasn't cried yet, and he's probably the only one here who hasn't. His mom's eyes are so red from crying she can hardly see. He will cry later, he admits. For now, he can't. He doesn't have time. His phone won't stop ringing.